Less than a week until the Season 3 premiere so I’m going to have to pick up the pace! WELP. Sorry guys, but I had to focus on my sewing! FINALLY finished my first pair of stays, and can’t wait to share them with a post soon. If you’re just jumping in, here’s my ranking of the Top 7 Looks from Outlander Season 2:

Claire’s famous Red Dress is one of the few garments from the book that needed to be shown on the show, and certainly one that fans have been aching to see brought to life. I already talked a bit about it in this post, but this is an original design that riffs on the Robe de Cour, the most formal gown worn in Europe during the 18th century.

Terry Dresbach has repeatedly said that she does not base her costumes purely on descriptions from the books, and I think that’s the whole point of having a costume designer. They can create a visual language that provides the time, place and mood. Not all authors are good at writing about what their characters are wearing, anyways. On the flip side, sometimes veering from the book is a no-no. Hermione’s dress should have been BLUE, and I don’t give a crap what Emma Watson likes to wear!

Thank you to people with ample time to photoshop who have remedied this situation.

Film and TV productions that attempt “modern historical” are often the result of a combination of ‘the powers that be’ deciding that viewers don’t think historical clothing is sexy or relateable and/or a limited budget. So you might end up with the hot mess that is Reign.

I should note that I’ve never even watched this show, but Netflix keeps trying to suggest it to me. A show about teenage Mary Stuart, aka future Mary, Queen of Scots, sounds amazing, but alas I couldn’t get past what I saw in the commercials. I was obsessed with Cate Blanchett in Elizabeth when I was in high school, so assuming that they had to do this Gossip Girl/Renn Faire mashup to attract teens is a real lowest-common-denominator bummer. But back to the Red Dress!

Decidedly not a bummer! Terry Dresbach was tasked with creating a dress that results in a fan favorite Jamie quote, moves the plot, and looks like something that Claire would have designed with her mantua-maker. Claire is very much a modern woman who bristles at the norms and customs of the 18th century (tbh the 20th century too!) and it’s reflected in her minimalist, elegant clothing. Claire suffers no fools—or frou-frou! Louise on the other hand is the picture of French rococo, full of pastel jacquards, frothy ribbons, and coquettish charms. Claire is dressed in deep jewel tones that are either unadorned or given unusual details to have her be just a hair off. Again, she’s a time-traveler and the lead so it’s a good design choice.

Ruby red, plus emerald, garnet. tanzanite, citrine, and amethyst

The Red Dress is modern historical done right—you can see the elements of the 18th century without being thrown off by the anachronistic twists. So let’s break down the modern and the historical aspects of the design.

There’s a lot of 1950’s influence in this dress, much like the Dior Suit. The shade of red immediately brought to mind the famous Revlon lipstick Cherries in the Snow, which they have continued to make since it came out in 1952. The lipstick and matching nail polish were bestsellers, and probably what your grandmother or great aunt was wearing in those old black and white photos you love. This va-va-voom ad from 1953 with model Dorian Leigh certainly doesn’t require you to read between the lines!

“Who knows the black lace thoughts you think while shopping in a gingham frock?”Inspiration board from Terry Dresbach’s blog…for a nip slip.

The plunging neckline, however—can we still call it that when it’s nowhere near the neck? The boobline?-—is totally 2016. Obviously this a dress for the bold (although amazingly less NSFW than the King’s mistress OUCHIES) so if you’re doing a cosplay version all I can say is werk werk werk werk werk. Also, don’t lean over 😜

Of course, if you make the Red Dress you can adjust the neckline to suit your comfort level. Just sew up the center front seam until you’ve got a level of décolletage you won’t regret later. If you want to be more modest AND historically accurate, then sew it completely closed and bring on the lace and bling. You could also tone down the boob-tasticness by adding a lace tucker or a chiffon ruffle like Claire’s purple dress, which looks like it was drafted from the same pattern. Hey, we can’t all be former Victoria Secret models like Ms. Balfe! I’ve always been a rectangle in those magazine “what shape are you?” quizzes so I’m forever Team Modest Bosom.

On the historical side this gown has many elements of the Robe de Cour, or “court dress.” Another name for this style of dress is grand habit (“full dress”), but as the fashions of the French court carried to other countries it simply became the dress to be worn in the presence of royalty. In English it was called a stiff-bodied gown. Compare Claire’s dress to these two ruby Robes de Cour worn by royals in the mid-late 18th century.

Henriette of France, youngest of Louis XV’s twin daughters. Love that she played the viola de gamba!

This gorgeous scarlet red and gold brocade robe de cour is worn by Louis XV’s daughter Henriette, the younger of his twin daughters born in 1727. That date sounded way too early to me, but it turns out Louis XV was married at 15, and “finally” fathered an heir (and a spare) at the ripe old age of 17! So if you do the math, Louis XV has 18 year old daughters AND a 16 year old married son at the time of Bonnie Prince Charlie’s campaign. Blergh.

These are both later Robes de Cour, as Maria Amalia was born in 1746 shortly before the Battle of Culloden, and the print is from 1778. However, the dress style has barely changed: same low, off-the-shoulder bodice that laces up the back, layered lace sleeves, ornate stomacher, and petticoat with large panniers. The lace sleeves are detachable, but I’m not sure if they were tacked onto the chemise or the bodice. This cloth-of-gold bodice was worn by Lady Mary Douglas at the coronation of George III. There’s a cool FIDM blog post about how they took to the hospital to be x-rayed and examine all the layers of the only surviving English “stiff-bodied gown” without damaging it. It looks like the strip of ivory silk is where the lace sleeves would have been attached.

The court bodice was fully boned, laced up the back, and many also had tabs, so it was basically a bodice-stays hybrid. No stays were worn underneath the robe de cour, so Terry Dresbach took that idea and ran with it.

Photos from the Outlander exhibit at the Paley Center via TerryDresbach.comBack lacing with modesty panel, although perhaps a misnomer here…

There are usually bows or ribbon decoration at the elbow, which is interpreted very simply on Claire’s gown. You can see a piped edge along the bodice which is sitting on top of a cartridge-pleated skirt, just like on the Emerald Robe à la Piemontaise. The photo also shows where the center inverted box pleat ends.

Close up on the ribbon detail and the skirt’s accordion pleats.

The hem length is high ankle, and that isn’t really fashionable until the last quarter of the century, and then only for less formal dresses. Even when the empire waist came into fashion, the Robe de Cour skirt still grazes the floor with wide panniers (yeah, it’s not sexy look). But the shorter hem modernizes Claire’s dress and helps set the dress apart in a crowd. Plus, gotta show off your custom shoes! Similar strap-happy heels on the Pinterest board.

In addition the amazing dress, this episode also gave us one of my fave Outlander memes.

In Jamie’s defense, he did give Claire a heads up. “I said I was a virgin, not a monk.” Haha!

How to Make It

I’m going to assume that anyone making this gown, or a historically accurate version, has a pretty fancy party to attend. I haven’t tackled panniers or cartridge pleating yet, but if you’ve made stays or another type of boned bodice before this project is very doable. Practice crab-walking sideways through doors to see if this dress is for you 😉

Type: Original design {Modified Robe de Cour}

HA Rating: 6/10
(It would turn heads, but you wouldn’t be immediately be thrown in gaol as a time-traveling witch like showing up in Forever 21)

When I first saw this promo photo I wanted it soooo badly! If you’ve known me for longer than five minutes that comes as no surprise because green is my favorite color. That gorgeous fabric gives me daydreams of using the rent money on yards of silk. Just kidding! That’s what credit cards are for. Emergencies… very important fancy fabric emergencies. *sigh* Being a responsible adult is no fun.

Much pretty. Much arm flailing.

So while I enjoyed the NYC billboards with VIVE LES FRASERS, and I’m presuming 10-foot-tall cleavage, I just wanted to see this dress in action. We had to wait until episode 7 to see it! Unlike #1, the 1740’s Dior Suit, this is a true 18th century style. However, the Robe á la Piemontaise was not fashionable until the late 1770’s to 1780’s so it’s about 40 years early. Back in January I joined in on the #GeorgianJanuary Instagram theme month, and mistakenly called this gown a Robe á la Française. I simply hadn’t read as much at that point and didn’t notice the difference from francaises. Also called sacque or sack-back dresses, these gowns both have pleated fabric across the shoulders that look almost identical from the back.

I don’t speak French, but it’s safe to say that if I can figure out robe à la Française means French dress, you probably did as well 😉 So what’s a Robe à la Piemontaise? According to Google Translate it’s “dress with piemontaise,” which makes it sound like it comes with a sauce on the side. *eye roll*

I still remember un po’ italiano, and recognized the Italian term “Piemontese,” as in cucina piemontese. Piemonte is Italy’s Piedmont region in the north along the Alps, as the name comes from “foot of the mountain” (piede + montagna). The capital of the region is Turin, which I got to visit very briefly back when I did study abroad. A Wikipedia rabbit hole led me to Clotilde, sister of Louis XVI and later Queen of Sardinia. She was a devout Catholic and wanted to become a nun, but a royal marriage is simply too valuable politically to be wasted. The King, her brother, arranged for her to marry Charles Emmanuel, Prince of Pièmont when Clotilde was just 16 years old. Her sister-in-law Marie Antoinette writes of her younger sister Èlisabeth being very upset over her sister leaving France, but apparently there was no love lost between the congenial-yet-conservative Clotilde and her fashionable SIL. The official marriage, after a proxy one in Versailles, took place in Turin in 1775—right around the time this dress was briefly fashionable! Unfortunately I couldn’t find any direct references to this dress style possibly being named after the new Princess of Piemonte or an Italian import, and it will take more time to look for primary sources.

Let’s compare these sack-back dresses, which look very similar at first glance.

You can see that the gown on the left has detached pleats and the green one on the right has pleats that are one piece (back and skirt). So now we know the cream gown is a piemontaise, and confirmed that the green brocade is indeed a francaise. You can’t see the wall behind the dress in the profile view of a francaise. (Sorry, going to get lazy with proper terms.)

Those pleats were often used as an opportunity to show off some nice pattern matching like these two:

Robe a la Piemontaise via IMATEX.

Francaise, 1778085. The Met: item C.I.65.13.2a–c.

Claire’s piemontaise has this as well, but her pleats are wider. This could also be for visual balance since Caitriona Balfe is 5’10”, but it’s very likely that this dress was actually meant to be a francaise before the production team lost their cutters (more on this in the great Frock Flicks interview with Terry Dresbach).

Very wide, cape-like pleats. Also, squinty-disdainful royals.

Although the francaise and the piemontaise look like dresses with a long train attached to the neckline, both are constructed from a long length of fabric with a complicated draping so that the skirt and the train are one piece. Keeping in mind how valuable fabric was during this time period, this technique makes perfect sense because you can easily remake the gown if fashion or your body changes. You still have yards of uncut fabric. Garments were given as gifts or inherited, and altered to suit the new owner. This is why you might see a museum item with a description like “Spitalfields silk c1720-30, dress altered 1750-1760” where the textile can be dated decades before the style of the garment, with old seams or pin holes as evidence of a re-fashioning.

Here’s what it looks like on the inside!

Look at this crazy mix of lining fabrics!

The back can be fitted with the CB ties, and you can see the reinforced fabric and stitches where the pleats are attached. This is a museum deaccession from the Brooklyn Museum that was sold by Augusta Auctions.

Damask or Brocade or Jacquard?

Since I don’t have much on the provenance of the dress, I wanted to delve into the textiles and the confusing intermingling of damask/brocade/jacquard. Shopping online you might see descriptions like this one from Mood: “British Amethyst Damask Satin-Faced Jacquard.” What the heck does that even mean?!

Silk fabric production came to Europe from China, and by the Renaissance we can see evidence of complicated woven fabrics in paintings and frescoes. For example, “The Birth of Mary” by Ghirlandaio, which is in Santa Maria Novella in Florence. The fabric pattern on the noblewoman in the middle is very beautiful in person, and the detail is impressive even five centuries later.

Zoom in on the gilt fabric. Image via WikiCommons

Brocade comes from the Italian wood brocatto originating from the past tense of broccare, which my dictionary give as “to brocade” but the older usage apparently meant “to stud with nails.” Brocco means stick or thorn in modern Italian, and broccoli means “tiny nails” so you can see the etymology. Brocade patterns required great skill and a lot of time; it would take weeks just to prepare the loom with up to 40 different thread colors, and then months of weaving it with the help of a draw boy standing overhead.

The name “jacquard” given to fabric refers to fabrics made on the Jacquard loom, invented in 1804 by Joseph-Marie Jacquard. His loom used punch cards to help create the design, meaning that a less-skilled worker could make a beautiful fabric much faster. A Jacquard loom can make various kinds of weaves including damask, brocatelle, brocade, and matelasse. So you could say that all of these are jacquard fabrics, but the way it’s most often used now is to describe a lighter-weight damask or brocade, with brocade calling to mind a heavier, stiff fabric. The Dreamstress blog goes into more depth and I really recommend it if you’re curious to know more.

I browsed the NYC garment district for some examples:

Damask: A reversible floral or ornamental design often in one color (flat and satin) or two (design and solid ground).

Brocade: Various designs, but gives a raised embroidered look. It is not reversible–wrong side of fabric will usually be striped.

Typical striped reverse showing the different thread colors.

This was tagged as a “double-faced brocade” and you can see that this one has been woven to be reversible.

Imperial brocade: A type of brocade with metallic threads

A nice shade of green, but obviously intended for a priest’s vestments!

Compare with this embroidered satin–see how there’s no visible weave or loose threads on the reverse?

How to Make It

We’ve gone over how a Piemontaise differs from the Francaise, the most popular formal gown for the latter three-quarters of the 18th century. But looking more closely at Claire’s version, I’m certain it’s actually a bodice over a cartridge-pleated skirt—just like the Red Dress.

There should be a petticoat underneath the open skirt of the gown like the extant dresses above. The large box pleat at the center of the skirt allows the bodice tabs to lie flat, and also mimics the look of gown-over-petticoat.

Terry’s a big fan of cartridge pleating, which looks gorgeous and gives a lot of volume. Georgian gowns have the skirt knife-pleated to the bodice.Definitely looks like a single skirt here

Undergarments (to be used for all costumes)
Paniers/Side Hoops: Simplicity-American Duchess 8411, Dreamstress Panier-Along tutorial
Stays: Recommend strapless stays with this neckline. See Corsets and Crinolines (Diderot and half-boned stays), Butterick B4254 (View A or B), Simplicity 8162, or Reconstructing History
Shift/Chemise: Self-drafted or Simplicity 8162

Accessories:
Poison-detecting necklace (optional)
Drop earrings
Silk stockings with ribbon garters
Green satin 18th century repro shoes (Modern heels like these would fun if you’d like to look more like a time-traveler 😉 )

Back to fabrics—

If you’ve ever tried to find brocades or damasks that don’t look like they should be on a couch or a Halloween costume, you’re already well aware of how frustrating period fabric shopping can be. The lack of appropriate prints makes looking for a specific color like this beautiful deep green practically impossible. Months ago I found a perfect silk brocade for this project at a famous NYC fabric store… for the low low price of $79.95 a yard!

I would plan on budgeting for 10 yards, and for solid and jacquard silks you can expect to see $20-65 a yard. Beauties like this silk masterpiece can set you back $155/yard.

This sample has been swatched so you can see the reverse.

This is assuming that you already have all the necessary undergarments and don’t need fabric for those as well. So yes, historical costuming can be an expensive hobby! In fact, the high cost of these textiles is why the Outlander costume department hand-painted and embroidered fabrics to extend their budget. Polyester is more forgiving for actual wear and your wallet (I would not want to see a dry-cleaning bill for this gown!), but the drawback is the choice of colors. The chemical dyes used can give vibrant colors than don’t fade, but the colors available are too garish to be HA. Affordable fabrics in natural colors are much harder to find, but make the difference between looking like you stepped out of a Watteau painting or got lost from the set of Amadeus. (GREAT movie, terrible costumes.)

Outlander fans got a wee dram to hold them until the Season 3 premiere with a panel at San Diego ComicCon, plus plenty of adorableness from the cast and Diana all over Instagram and various interviews. Spoiler alert: Sam and Cait are still hot, and doing that whole “we’re-not-an-item-but-we’re-going-flirt-and-touch-each-other-for-the-fans” thing 😛 Also, Tobias got to talk sometimes lol. SDCC was followed by Costume College —why are all the fun things so far away? Would love to one day be able justify a flight to California for a weekend of sewing and costuming classes!

But until then, I’m going to keep sewing and share my top 7 gowns from S2 to get us through! Season 3 premieres September 10th, and then in October I’ll be at NYCC so this fall is going to be fun. I’m going to breakdown the look for you by looking at what type of gown it is, how historically accurate it is (and if not, how to make it accurate), and suggested patterns and fabric to make it for yourself! Plus, each look will have it’s own Pinterest board for source images, extant garments, and inspiration.

If you have also been eagerly awaiting the new American DuchessxSimplicity pattern, then you’re probably already aware of the dust-up over this new release. But just in case you’re not, let me back up a bit. About a year ago Lauren and Abby of American Duchess announced that Simplicity has asked them do another pattern for their Outlander cosplay series. I should note the pattern is not licensed and does not name the show, but it’s clear Simplicity is aiming for this audience. They shared a few photos of the work in progress (spiders, insane pleating, etc.) and made clear that they viewed Terry Dresbach’s creation as “an original piece of haute couture” and would not be copying the design, but using the dress as inspiration in combination with historical garments, namely the Robe de Cour.

The original sewing pattern cover that was pulled from stores.

The Robe de Cour, also called a grand habit or grand habit de cour was to be worn in court (the kind with royals, not lawyers) and had several unique design elements that differed from other dresses of the same time, including: fully boned, separate bodice with laced back, wide or puffy lace sleeves, a low scooped or off-the-shoulder neckline, and sometimes tabs similar to stays. These elements are very clear in this portrait; see the tiny tabs at the bottom point of the bodice?

Portrait of Lady Frances Montagu ca. 1734 Charles Jervas

A fashion plate showing a robe de cour towards the end of 1700’s.

To myself, and many, many Outlander and costuming fans, the news of the pattern’s release was exciting, but not a surprise. Apparently, not so for Terry Dresbach. She made several comments on social media, partially removed her blog, and then shut it down completely. Ooof.

In her mind, the pattern is an attempt to make money off of her original design without her permission or compensation. Truth be told, capitalizing on trends and pop culture is the aim of the big pattern companies, but to me it’s clear it was not the intention of the designers. They did not make a carbon copy of her design, and sought to draw from historical styles while still giving fans (and Simplicity) what they wanted. When Lord of the Rings came out there were lots of vaguely medieval, Elvish patterns (and yes, high school me did ask my mom to make me one for Renn Fest!). When Pirates of the Caribbean was big there were tons of sexy pirate, corset-type costumes. When Game of Thrones blew everyone’s minds… you guessed it, Westeros now at a Joann’s near you.

Uh “cousin of dragons”?

I think it’s certainly any artist’s right to protect his or her original designs, but Terry’s reaction also stems from her frustration with the larger problem within the industry of costume designers not receiving any royalties from their designs. (She had written about this issue on her blog at one point, but can’t link back anymore since the blog is gone.) I have to admit her post was the first time I’d ever considered the thousands of branded Indiana Jones Halloween costumes or the knock-offs-trying-to-avoid-being-sued with names like “Lady Cat Villain” that will continue to make money for the studio or merchandiser—without the designer who created the iconic image ever seeing a cent. This is so entrenched in the entertainment industry it would take a huge boycott, similar to the writer’s strike that crippled Hollywood a few years ago, to have any impact.

Is the pattern inspired by Outlander? Absolutely—but I wish that Terry had realized that these are historians and experienced dressmakers that DID NOT need her blog to figure out how make a court dress. Imitations of a gown that fans of the books have envisioned and dreamed about for over a decade were inevitable, no matter what it looked like. But her vision for Claire’s Versailles red dress is destined to be as iconic as the gowns of Hollywood leading ladies, and in my opinion only topped by her genius 1740’s meets 1940’s Dior Bar Suit mashup. But whereas both of those creations are a step out of time—befitting a time-traveler—the Simplicity pattern is based on extant dresses and fashions. The original pattern, now pulled from shelves, makes the connection more obvious with the sample’s rich scarlet satin. The replacement was altered to a fakey Photoshopped blue and my last check on the website showed a teal color.

It’s a real loss that Terry’s blog is offline indefinitely because casual fans and historical costumers alike could see the incredible amount of work that went into each costume, plus get close-up photos and sometimes design or process elements of a garment that may have been in the background, or only on screen for a few seconds. Maybe we can start a petition to bring it back for season 3? We know there’s another wedding dress coming and so many different characters to introduce and various new locations—really want to see how they tackled a whole new set of problems!

Sorry it’s been a while! If you had asked where I’d be now after my last post I would have thought my stays AND shift and petticoat would be done by now. But… we moved to a new apartment! It was stressful and wallet-draining (what move isn’t?) and all sewing had to be pushed aside. Or rather, boxed up.

We had in mind that we might be moving, and then all at once we were looking at new apartments and trying to pack up. I’ll admit that I was having horrible visions of my sewing box getting lost and all my fabric and patterns gone forever. Our movers ended up being amazing… but I still put my sewing machine and stays in our car so I could stop obsessing over their safety lol.

If you’re paying close attention you’ll see that Claire has a set wardrobe in S1, with a few bodices, jackets, stomachers, and skirts being worn again in different combinations. I loved noticing this, and appreciated Terry’s dedication to the character design aspect of film costume. Yes, you could have Cait in amazing new outfits back to back, but realistically how would she have gotten all these new clothes? Claire only has a couple plain stomachers early on, and I remember being distracted noticing she had a new one with some spangly bits and embroidery. “Ooh, where did she get that? Not Mrs. Fitz, she’s been roaming about… maybe in return for helping a sick person?” Haha! Do you get caught up in your own imagined backstory scenes too?

Claire’s heather brown bodice can look caramel or rust in different lighting.

I had put aside my then-too-large stays and turned to the stomacher as an easy check-off on my list while I figured out what to do with them. The stomacher looked like a quick bit of sewing and, as it is often the case with such assumptions, it was a pain and took way longer than it was supposed to! Even if you’re new to sewing you could make a stomacher without a pattern: trace a long triangle, wrong sides together, turn it out, add some boning channels, sew up the top, et voila! Except…

Does anyone else imagine Tim Gunn silently judging their sewing with his chin in his hand?

Okay, so it wasn’t quite that bad, but this tiny piece of fabric refused to cooperate. But as Mr. Gunn says: “Make it work!” In retrospect I think using a different backing fabric would have probably solved everything. Since I wasn’t able to find a light-colored damask that was 100% cotton, my fabric is 40% polyester and I didn’t anticipate how much stretch that would give it. It behaved very nicely with the cotton canvas for the stays, and I should have used some of that leftover canvas for the lining instead of lightweight broadcloth.

A lovely example from the V & A with embroidery, trim, and do I spy some piecing?

Depending on your gown you could use solid fabric and embroider it, add self-fabric or decorative trim, or leave it unembellished for a casual or “undress” look like I did. I cut out the stomacher very carefully to have the damask pattern centered. Thankfully I had ordered extra fabric in case I had any mishaps with the stays so I could be choosy about where to cut. All you need is a clear quilting ruler and a disappearing marker so you can see the design, and then mark the center line extending beyond the top and bottom so you can see it when the pattern is on top. Pin the pattern so that it’s centered, then carefully cut. I used pins and scissors instead of weights and my rotary blade to make sure there wouldn’t be any wiggling. Transfer the boning channels from the pattern using the pin and marker method, then use your ruler to draw the lines.

I wanted to make my stomacher more historically accurate by adding tabs. The stomacher should be pinned in place to your stays using the tabs. I haven’t tried this yet, but the consensus is the thickness of the stays will prevent you from stabbing yourself! The fronts of gowns were also pinned in place and you can even see those pin marks on dresses in museums. I used leftover twill tape from the bum pad to make 6 tabs that were about 3″ long. Folded in half they were long enough to hide about 1/2″ in the seam allowance. They were pinned in place before I sewed the front and back together. The tabs would also have been leather-backed, to hold up under daily pinning, and I’d like to try adding it in the future.

Boning channels centered and ready to be sewn!

Centered stomacher with tabs-yay! But then my desire to use up all my scraps came back to bite me. The shifting meant that after one boning channel was sewn the top no longer matched up, and seeing a wonky line front and center under a bodice or jacket would be terrible. Plus, this is the only part of the outfit that calls for steel boning and the bunched up fabric let the spiral steel peek about a bit. Some steel boning can be shortened and recapped, but the lengths I have are very solidly hammered closed at both ends. So I had to take out the stitching and try again, but first I quickly hand-basted the top closed. I also re-positioned the pins along the sides that had been in to help prevent any movement.

Hard to believe, but this is actually an improvement!

This helped a lot, but it was still uneven and the back was a mess. I picked out the stitches again, but it still looked the same after another try so had the bright idea to machine baste the edges. This did a much better job than the pins and I might just keep it in, even though it’s not pretty, since the edges will covered by the bodice anyway. The pointed end isn’t as crisp as it should be, but I was just glad to be done with it and move on.

Backstitching makes the boning channels look very messy so you’ll need to leave long threads so you have something to work with. I like to double-knot, sew a few small stitches just through the lining and then trim very close to the fabric. Just wiggle the fabric a little and the thread ends will slip in-between the layers.

I started putting the boning in and realized that, unlike the stay’s plastic boning, the steel ends are slightly wider than the rest which makes it difficult to put in. And the caps are very sharp so when I tried to pull it back out I almost tore the lining! I managed to get them all out and decided to wrap the ends with some clear tape. It went it much more smoothly! But then I had to remove it again because I realized that the blue marker lines would need to be removed with a damp cloth.. and possibly make my steel bones rust through my lovely, ivory pain-in-the-butt stomacher. DEEP BREATH.

Finished! You can see how thin my lining is with the steel bones showing.

Since there was no room to machine sew the top closed I simply did it by hand. Even though it’s still not favorite I’m realizing that there are certain tasks that just work better sewn by hand. And of course now that it’s done I’m thinking I need to make a teal wool one to match the jacket 😉 What’s that saying about insanity and doing the same thing twice? Hmmm…

Wrinkly back, but front looks good! I left in the stay stitching along the edge.

Next up: The Stays: Part II

1 and 2. Claire collages by me with official stills from Starz/Outlander.

Before we get into the making of the stays I need to be real with you. I kept this project a secret for over two months because I was really afraid I was going to end up embarrassing myself. I kept asking myself “Am I really doing this? This is all new. This is complicated.” Even as I was fabric hunting and researching I kept having a vision of this project turning into a wreck, a sad mess of fabric that would sit unfinished guilting me from a corner for the rest of my days. I usually share things I’m excited about social media, but I was worried that I would share something and then have someone ask about it “Hey, how’s that costume coming along?” …and have to admit that I’d f-ed it up beyond recognition and abandoned it in shame and frustration.

Because it’s happened before—although no one found out. I shared a work-in-progress on Instagram, right before making a huge mistake. In my eagerness to get more done during naptime I miscut the batting for an easy whole cloth “quilt” and well, once fabric is cut, there’s no undo button! My batting was too large and I was supposed to trim it down, except I forgot that I had measured and marked when it was folded in half. YUP. I had extra batting, and somehow managed to make it too small to use. The only option was to buy more batting, and I was crushed that I’d made such a stupid error before getting the part I was nervous about trying in the first place—the quilting! I decided to only share finished or almost-finished projects after that.

Guess what? Surprise, I made more mistakes! But tackling them and problem-solving gave me confidence, instead of draining it. I’m self-taught and felt I didn’t have any sort of authority to share my work with others. I am still nervous about zippers. I don’t have a dress form or a dedicated sewing studio. I don’t have a degree in theatrical costuming or art history. I’m terrible at hand-sewing and don’t even know all the stitches used in historically accurate gowns. Don’t let your current skill set be your ONLY skill set. You just have to start. I hope if that you’re interested in sewing this project will prove that if I can do it, so can you!

The Stays

A trio of embellished German stays from the Germanisches Nationalmuseum.

A pair of stays would have been worn by every woman and girl in the 18th century, although the fabric and quality would have reflected her station. They could have be made with silk brocade and bailene (whalebone) for the wealthy upper class, or linen and worsted wool with reed boning for lower class women. Even though I do love this exchange between Claire and Mrs. Fitz in S1e2—“What kind of corset is that?!”—

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“Corset” was the term used because the writers knew the audience would only know the more modern word. An older term for them was a “pair of bodies” and “pair of stays” seems to be used into the 1800’s with transitional stays. As I mentioned before these stays are made with the Simplicity 8162 pattern and work for mid-18th century garments. If you look at extant examples in museum collections you’ll see that the style and shape alters in later decades. A pair of stays gives a foundation for the dress and should take in your waist, but not be too uncomfortable. As noted in Corsets and Crinolines:

“the shoulder blades were thus permanently pulled back to give the fashionable narrow straight back… These stays do not unduly compress the waist.”

Unlike a Victorian corset with an extreme hourglass shape and little regard for a woman’s internal organs and indulgences like breathing!

I don’t have my early process photos because my phone met with a series of unfortunate events and I lost all my back up data. (The absolute worst. We will not speak of it further…)

You’ll need to measure yourself and cut out the appropriate size pattern. Then pin it and cut out your main fabric, which you’ll see on the outside, and your thicker interlining or strength layer which could be the traditional corsetry fabric coutil or linen or cotton canvas. Coutil is very expensive, and cotton canvas is similar to what would have been used so I purchased an all natural canvas duck. Natural fiber fabrics really are a must because you don’t want to be stuck sweating in polyester stays that don’t breathe! Upholstery fabric is popular for the main fabric because of the weight and designs, but so much of what I found was 100% polyester. Since you only need 1yd you could use a cotton-silk or 100% silk decor fabric that’s perhaps too pricey for a voluminous gown or skirt, but would make a very pretty pair of stays.

Carefully transfer all the markings (boning channels, cutting lines, etc.) by poking holes with a pin and then using a water-soluble fabric pen along those points. Complete the lines with a quilting ruler. Sew all 8 canvas sections to their corresponding main section.

Here are all the pieces with main fabric and strength layer sewn together and all the boning channels. You can see in the middle I was starting to sew the sections together and I found small binder clips held the bulky layers better than pins. On the right I was testing out the boning to make sure it fit.

CF, SF, SB, CB, CB and SB clipped together, SF, CF with boning.

Next follow your markings and carefully sew the boning channels. Rococo Atelier’s 18th century stays tutorial was very detailed and especially beneficial to a first-timer like myself. Her tip about starting where the boning channels cross, instead trying to stop exactly at that point, was like a lightbulb going off! American Duchess has a couple posts with video for making this pattern that took the stress out of working with boning for the first time. I definitely watched/read them several times just have the process feel like second nature.

Now you’ll sew center front to side front (CF to SF) and center back to side back (CB to SB), then sew the sections together. So you’ll have 4 pieces, then 2, then 1. Do the same for the other side, and now you have the left and right sides of your stays! Starting to look like something now!

This my left side- see all the markings? The seam on the far right has been pressed and whipstitched down with upholstery thread.

See how tidy the whipstitched seam looks? This will help strengthen the seam and keep it flat under the lining. Something bumpy will be very uncomfortable once you’re laced in tight. This step is not a part of the Simplicity instructions, but I learned how to do this from the American Duchess video.

I used a tapered awl to make small holes at the front lacing marks. At last getting to see what they look like on me! So I laced up the front and I tried on the stays… but they were TOO. BIG.

What? How is this possible?! Argharghargh. Only the front was laced because I was too impatient to make all the holes in the back, but I had a good hunk of fabric in my hand to hold it closed. It looked like a loose bodice, not a pair of stays with negative ease. Huge disappointment.I kept taking them out and looking at them, trying to decide if I wanted to undo the whipstitched seams. In the end I couldn’t bring myself to undo them (so many spare moments cobbled together to handsew them!) and gave them a closed back, taking out over an inch on each side. In the end it wasn’t as big of a deal as it felt like at first—in fact, front-lacing only is still historically accurate and easier to put on. I had considered making a size down for a tighter fit, but when I held the pattern up against me it was too short. I was already intimidated by this project and redrafting to lengthen each piece and adjust boning channels and markings—that’s a big pile of NOPE. Whenever I make another pair of stays (!!) I’ll have a better idea of what works and will remember to whipstitch AFTER trying on!

Those blue dots on the back seam? Those were supposed to be the back lacing grommets! Obviously there is no way these stays would fit with two more pieces of boning and a laced closed back, much less a small gap like I expected.

These photos are from my second fitting after making them one piece—please ignore the odd lacing with blue yarn! Stays should not be worn with a strappy slip over lumpy jeans, but you knew that right? Sorry they’re not very pretty It gets dark so early now that getting photos with good light requires some planning, and I wanted see what it looked like right away!

Hurray for photo timer apps! Still no straps here.

Lots of extra fabric to be trimmed from the center back seam and the point is too long.

Mistakes conquered! In case any sticklers are concerned the stays do fit properly, but photos with them worn lower are quite indecent and won’t be shared on the internet! 😉 These stays were started at the beginning of October and most of my free time has gone into getting this far so I’m very proud of them. Are you also sewing the SimplicityxAmerican Duchess stays? How have yours come out?

Getting there, but still much to be done! Part II will cover the lining, binding, and grommets.

My previous post touched on my love of historical costuming, but it was the release of the American Duchess Simplicity patterns got the ze little grey cells working. After reading Lauren and Abby’s blog (and so many others!) I felt like I knew enough about the process and construction to take the plunge. I received lots of sewing-related birthday presents, so with pretty new pair of Gingher shears and a fabric gift card I started getting supplies.

I want to start off by noting that although I am in awe of completely hand-sewn, historically accurate gowns, I will be sewing 21st century style by machine. I’m only hand sewing where required—mostly because as the mom of a preschooler it would take me years to do this by hand! I would like to wear this before the next Olympics. Or Adele album. Or new Pixar movie—or however you note the passage of time.

Between mommy duties and chores there is not much free time for sewing. (Well, there could be more, but letting your toddler watch 7 straight hours of TV is generally frowned upon.) For me, “getting started” meant a few nights and afternoons of taping up and cutting out the pattern pieces. Then a couple nights pining and cutting out all the undergarment pieces. So you could certainly finish this project much faster than me–please don’t be deterred by my timeline! The American Duchess patterns are very well done and make each step easy to follow, plus they have pattern hacks on their blog for making it more historically accurate. My progress has really been impacted by time spent sewing, not difficulty—not at all what I expected!

Costumers say to start working “from the skin out,” and you really have to when sewing 18th and 19th century clothing because the foundations alter your shape so much that your garment simply won’t fit or hang right. You know that test taking strategy where you do the easiest part first to build your confidence and leave more time for the harder stuff? Well, I made the bum pad first–it’s basically a butt pillow ;).

The Bum Pad

“The Bum Shop” c. 1785. This classic cartoon from the NYPL shows that fashion trends have been simultaneously embraced and ridiculed for centuries!

The bum pad gives you that exaggerated rump all the gentlemen go crazy for! Thankfully the bum pad is more lightweight and faster to make than panniers. (Although if you want to make the court gowns from Outlander S2 you’re going to need panniers.) I struggled to find extant bum pads from the mid-1700’s, but did find some from the 1800’s:

The three on the top are similar to what we see on Claire, and the one on the bottom with three sections and a ruffle is very similar to the Simplicity pattern. Although I haven’t seen another bum pad with that sort of tufted seat cushion look before!

This was very straightforward so even though I lost the few process photos I had you’re really not missing much. I made it from a natural muslin scrap and white quilting cotton I had in my stash. So it’s a two-tone bum pad, but no one will see it. Plus, piecing and not wasting any fabric was common practice in the 18th century because fabric was very costly and made in thinner widths so I think it makes it more historically accurate! I can picture Jenny using some leftover fabric to make a bum roll and stuffing it with bits of wool and tiny cloth scraps from sewing for Ian and wee Jamie.

The only not-so-great part was the long narrow hem on the ruffle. I don’t have an ironing board (no place to store it in our little apartment) so part of the narrow hem frustration was trying press a skinny strip evenly on my make-shift ironing station.

Ooo, so plump and ruffle-ly.

Also I accidentally did one ruffle section wrong side out and had to get the seam ripper (womp womp). I’ll admit I looked at it for bit thinking “Well it will be under my clothes and no one will ever see it…” but I knew it would bother me. Leave it to me to make mistakes on the “self-esteem boosting” easy part! It was a little fiddly getting the gathers to go evenly around the curved edges, but overall a quick and easy project. Rump padding: check!

As I started working on my first historical costume I wanted to make a record of my progress—mostly for my own reference, but also to inspire me to keep going. Previously I’ve only sewn crafts and baby clothes so sewing for myself was a big 2016/ turning 30 goal. But lo and behold, my birthday came around in October and I had not sewn anything for myself!

Somehow my plan to simply make a dress that I wouldn’t be embarrassed to wear in public turned into 7-part costume… I always felt that a major costume like this was out of my reach. And you know what? It is! But I just decided to go for it because if you don’t move outside your comfort zone you’ll never grow. I’ve loved sketching and wearing historical costumes since I was kid, especially Elizabethan and 18th century gowns. My mom was a great seamstress and indulged me by making lots of great Halloween/dress up outfits over the years, including a colonial calico dress (American Girl Felicity fans out there? haha) and a navy and burgundy taffeta Elizabethan gown. I still kick myself for not trying to learn more from her, but it makes me happy that Mom’s sewing machine is still going strong in my little sewing corner.

Back to this blog—Soon I realized that my Outlander project was spread out over written notes, Pinterest boards, iPhone photos, and Evernote. I wanted to share some photos, but also felt like Facebook wasn’t the best format. Of course, numerous blogs have been very helpful as I learn and research 18th century fashion and construction, and it made sense to start one to have everything in one place. I am self-taught and not an expert, but perhaps this project will be of interest to someone else making the leap!

The Outlander Project

I will update the following with links and any changes as I go along.

The Look

I’m making a “Claire at Castle Leoch” outfit, and eventually will add outerwear (that fur-trimmed jacket! or a cloak! sigh.). The grand plan is to have one cosplay Claire outfit, and then alternate pieces that are historically accurate, such as a 1750’s jacket with winged cuffs. Of course it would be nice to order 5 or 6 yards of lovely 100% wool tartan from Britex but my accuracy, both to the show and the time period, is affected by my fabric budget. I plan on purchasing wool stockings and have some brown leather shoes that are serviceable, but would like to complete the outfit with proper shoes like the Fraser heels from American Duchess one day. You know, like after I finish sewing everything haha.

The Materials

I’ll provide more details on each garment, but these are the suppliers I used if you’re not sure where to start. I’m lucky enough to be able to make quick trips to NYC’s Garment District on my lunch break, and very much recommend ordering swatches or shopping in person when you can since colors and texture can be quite misleading online.

*I don’t really recommend Joann’s for fabric beyond quilting or kid’s clothing. However, I did find a good looking synthetic that was affordable for the 4yd petticoat—combined with a 60% coupon it was an awesome deal. Also, Paron is now closed after over 70 years of business 😦

I haven’t shopped from these stores yet, but they specialize in historical fabrics:

*Pacific Trimming is my go-to for notions, like finding the perfect binding for the stays or a certain color of velcro. Sadly both Pacific and M&J have websites that are not nearly as good their stores. Or maybe part of it is losing the kid-in-a-candy-store feeling from walls and walls of ribbons and lace?

This is my new blog to share my sewing thoughts and progress. I plan on showing the process of my Outlander project—a complete 1750’s outfit with undergarments—and maybe some other bits I’m working on. I’m not sure if I’ll continue blogging once it’s done, but I wanted to have one place for all my photos and notes instead of scattered updates on Instagram or Facebook. I hope you enjoy following along!